


And Beneath His Rage, a Towering Ambition

by plume_solitaire



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Korriban (Star Wars), One Shot, Sith Academy, Sith Empire, Star Wars AU set in the Old Republic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:48:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22378234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plume_solitaire/pseuds/plume_solitaire
Summary: As an acolyte of the Korriban Sith Academy, the young Arthur Kirkland seeks to surpass his peers in training.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8





	And Beneath His Rage, a Towering Ambition

Korriban, 3503 BBY

“Master Tarask, I’m ready to resume.”

Fifteen-year-old Arthur Kirkland stood in the middle of the combat simulator. His fellow Sith acolytes dubbed the feared contraption the “pain pipe,” and for a good reason. More than occasionally, it would end several lives in a single run.

A bloom of blue-ish-purple was spreading around his left eye, and he wiped blood from his split lip. Presently, he felt no pain at all, only the fresh hell roiling within him -- the desire to strike back at the machine that beat him down, time and time again.

_Broken, but not defeated. _These were only flesh wounds. Young Arthur was angry, and anger made him strong.__

__Gazing from the control booth 60 feet above, Sith Combat Master Dagos Tarask pulled a hand from the blinking, wraparound control panel. It was the dead of night, and he and Arthur were the only ones left in the simulator. Tarask, like Blademaster Rohntul, had taught at the Sith Academy in the heart of Korriban’s Valley of Dark Lords for decades. He’d witnessed acolytes like Arthur come and go like Korriban’s fleeting springs -- young darkside adepts who plunged into their training with little to no rest on a regular basis -- and had seen how quickly that lifestyle had gotten to them. After hesitating for a moment, he jabbed the intercom._ _

__“One round’s sufficient for tonight,” he said._ _

__“Frankly master, I don’t agree.” Arthur looked back up at him. The bruise around his left eye had grown big enough to encompass his entire left cheekbone._ _

__Tarask stood up from behind the operation deck and leaned towards the window. He ground his teeth. Why was the damn brat so stubborn, especially when he was no prodigy?  
__

__“I said, one round has been sufficient-- and you heard it correctly, sufficient-- for tonight.”_ _

__“No, Master.” Arthur’s voice was ever so slightly softer. “I only wish to train under the same regimen as Antonio Carriedo.”_ _

__Tarask knew it. At the very least, he’d suspected this much. From the moment he’d arrived at the academy, Carriedo had set the standard for the academy’s pupils, all of whom were trying to train and fight in a regimen equal to his. The unfortunate thing was that there could only be one Carriedo, a juggernaut of such acute, unrivaled talent and potential. He was seldom seen because he spent most of his time training privately with the Sith Masters, a luxury most acolytes could only dream of. There were also rumors that Lord Xivius had taken him to the two-millennia-old tomb of Naga Sadow to learn long-lost Sith sorcery that could further boost his dueling prowess, though Tarask did not know if they were true._ _

__Nevertheless, Tarask found Kirkland’s ambition intriguing. The boy was in the middle of a growth spurt, and was built in such a ramshackle manner that he had almost no physical presence. Four years in the academy, the most brutal training ground in the entire galaxy, and he still looked like a wretched scarecrow with caterpillars clinging to its forehead. But he was viciously clever. Tarask sensed within him a deep inner drive, of sharp teeth and black rage, that allowed him to detect and seize opportunities in any circumstance. It was he who’d started the rumors that Xivius was taking Carriedo to Naga Sadow’s tomb so the latter would have even more of an edge over his peers. He’d argued the case so well that many students began considering a preemptive group attack to murder Carriedo._ _

__Perhaps this is Kirkland’s ultimate goal, _thought Tarask. _To eliminate the edge that Carriedo may already have.____

____

____

__He let Kirkland have one more try, and within a second the acolyte had fallen back into fighting stance, knobbly knees bent and shoulders squared._ _

_Let’s see how good you really are then._

____

____

____He entered in the sequence of commands that activated the combat simulator. The automated swing-arms sprung out of the massive column in the middle of the room. They closed in on Kirkland, who Force-lept out of the way to avoid being crushed. He dived through them in tuck-and-rolls, Force-pushed one approaching overhead back so hard it swung upward and broke from its mechanical socket and crashed onto the other side of the room. The apprentice dodged the 5 meter long, spring-loaded pike that dropped unexpectedly from the ceiling. It was that obstacle that had gotten him last time._ _ _ _

____Any apprentice who’d been in the simulator a couple of times would get the hang of the obstacle course. Even the unpredictable had some predictability, but life was hardly predictable. So how about an unforseen problem, like when one couldn’t see? Tarask picked up a pair of thermal lenses from the counter beside him and turned off the light switch. The training room promptly went pitch black._ _ _ _

____Below, Kirkland was caught off guard. Naturally. The wall behind him burst open with rubber whips, crackling through the air. The apprentice moved forward, but he was too late -- the whips tore his tunic and sliced the skin of his back, pushing him onto his knees._ _ _ _

___"Nice try Kirkland, but it’s over", said Tarask through the intercom as he reached to turn the lights back on._ _ _

____But the apprentice was back on his feet in an instant, leaping out of the way from the whips. Tarask realized that he wasn’t using his vision, he was relying entirely on the Force. As another swing-arm came down, Kirkland reached up, seized it, and held on--riding it to the zenith of its arc-- before letting go, twisting mid-air, and propelling himself headlong through the wide space to grab onto a spring-loaded rod as it shot out of the wall._ _ _ _

____Tarask had not seen anything like this before, not even from Carriedo. It was a move of utmost grace and precision, of complete trust and reliance upon the Force. It had taken great willpower and precognition._ _ _ _

____Kirkland spun himself around the rod, not once nor twice, but three times, each time gaining speed, before launching himself directly at the window of the control booth. Tarask anticipated the glass shattering and jerked backward. But Kirkland landed with surprisingly little impact on the transparisteel and clung on it with both hands for a moment, allowing Tarask to see the acolyte’s face staring straight at him._ _ _ _

____Then the apprentice dropped._ _ _ _

____Tarask tore off the goggles and switched on the lights. He looked down from the control booth and saw Kirkland standing down below, panting, yellow-green eyes darting with animalistic keenness. Tarask nodded. “Tomorrow we’ll see if you can do something like this again, Kirkland. You are dismissed. ”_ _ _ _

____The acolyte blinked, as if bewildered. Then his eyebrows furrowed downward and his thin lips bared a wide, ghastly grin of knowing he’d proven himself, at least in a way. He was about to speak when Tarask interrupted him._ _ _ _

____“Tomorrow,” he said -- with a tone of finality._ _ _ _

____****************************_ _ _ _

____Trudging back into his dorm, Arthur walked with his cloak wrapped tight around him. The wounds on his back were still leaking, and the one on his face throbbed with the constant buffeting of the sandy wind. He halted and looked back at the simulation bunker, looming like a huge glyphed coffin half sunk in the sand. The Academy left no one unmarked. Since his arrival, something had awoken inside him. Until he avenged himself, it would not be sated. He was well aware that what the other pupils and Masters thought of him -- just another try-hard acolyte believing he was destined for things that he wasn’t meant for. But the Force worked in mysterious ways, and tonight he’d shown Tarask what he was capable of. Then he’d show the rest of them, alright, when the time came._ _ _ _

____Arthur leapt over a sand dune that had accumulated over the door of the dorm, a couple hundred feet right from the Sith Academy. He pressed the dorm door hatch -- he needed to get himself cleaned up, as well as some rest. Never mind what anyone else thought-- he considered himself strong in the Force -- but one thing was for certain: his combat skills, including lightsaber and Force prowess, were still too raw and unrefined._ _ _ _

_One day I will be strong._

____

____

__Until then, he would continue practicing._ _


End file.
